Rules and Regulations
by jaygoose
Summary: Clearly he's insane... [SandersHodges]


**_Disclaimer:_** I barely keep gas in my car, man. Of course I don't own these boys or CSI.

**_Author's Note:_** Written for the 30 kisses theme #1 (look over here). This is my very first try at writing these two. I had fun and took what might be seen as some characterization liberties. Enjoy. I hope. Oh and it's un-beta'd.

**_Rules and Regulations_**

The whole thing is like the plot of a bad romantic comedy. Which means of course that they're doomed to live happily ever after.

This fails completely to ease his mind of course.

They're supposed to be arch nemesis. It's always been this way. Though he's now a CSI and no longer a DNA tech the laws of the lab still hold true. 1 part DNA + 1 part Trace equals Snarkplosion. It's a simple chemical reaction.

And while Greg Sanders is not one to stick to such rigid rules and regulations—well when he can help it—this happens to be one of those times where he'd much rather go with the natural order of things.

I mean, my god, it's Hodges.

It's small things at first. Like noticing the way David walks. The way he sort of whishes his hips. And have David's eyes always been so outrageously blue? And just when did it become normal to call Hodges, David?

He's caught all of this in the earlier stages. It's still new and infinitely baffling. But that hasn't meant he's been able to build up any resistance against it. It's not like he can just avoid the man. They work together. It's not like he doesn't get trace evidence on just about every damned case. It's gotten to the point that mere the sight of the stuff makes that pit in the bottom of his stomach twist at just the thought of standing in the same room as the guy.

This can't be good for his cases, let alone his sanity, because clearly he is losing his mind.

I mean, really, it's freaking David Hodges.

The same man who knows a disturbing amount about The Dukes of Hazard. The same man that mocks and snarks at him whenever the opportunity arises. The same man who seems to have an unhealthy obsession with board games and coffee. (Not that the coffee thing is so bad…) The same guy who's cornered him in the break room on many a long, boring, snark-less night and rambled on and on about cars, various family members, B grade horror movies, and the mating habits of squirrels or whatever rodent he was currently fascinated with this week. And Greg just nods along as usual and catalogs the interesting bits, because who is he to pass up new information.

But sometimes he zones out and notices how David's pale complexion and dark hair compliments his bright blue eyes. How his posture changes depending on his moods and fascinatingly enough that the man seems to have moods beyond the usual sour disposition to begin with. He notices the way the other man gestures wildly and his eyes flash a bit brighter when he's talking about something he finds particularly interesting. How thin his fingers are and how long his legs look in dark slacks.

Oh dear lord.

Greg's well aware that things were getting out of hand. Clearly he's insane.

Just when the hell has he had the time to notice all these things about David? And why the hell is he calling him David when everyone else still calls him Hodges? And someone is bound to catch on to that, all the odd staring and blushing he's been doing lately aside. This place is practically crawling with CSIs who have nothing better to do in their free time than make a murder case out of everything. And Greg's little crush is just what the rumor mill needs for the next three months.

And he's freaking staring at David again.

What. The. Hell?

**_oo0oo_**

He has been getting that tingling feeling a lot lately. That type when the hair on the back of his neck stands up and he can't help but feel that someone is watching him. Mostly David just ignores it. He has better things to do than keep up with idiots that have entirely too much free time on their hands.

Don't people work around here anymore. Sure it's been slow lately. Which is definitely not a bad thing as far as the city of Las Vegas is concerned. But good god you'd think people would have better things to do around here than watch him stare down a microscope.

David stubbornly keeps his eyes trained on the job at hand. That damned itch failing to fade. Only growing more insistent by the moment. He wonders why now all of a sudden it's become unbearable. He rubs at the back of his neck like a moron. Like the action will make the feeling go away. No. Only the removal of prying eyes can do that.

He readies his tongue as he glances up from the sample under the scope--cardboard shavings, found in the victim's hair. He can't be caught off guard in the face of such annoyance. He does have a reputation to maintain.

Blue eyes lock with dark brown. It's Sanders pretending to bury his nose in a file and not watching him like some slack jawed peeping Tom.

David tilts his head and continues staring back.

Is Sanders blushing?

What does he want? David doesn't recall paging him.

Outside in the hall the other man grins at him stupidly and scratches through a mass of sandy curls. He seems embarrassed. David inwardly blanches at the sight. He worries his hair when he's nervous too. Why would Greg be nervous? The younger man looks at him in a way that usually annoys the hell out of him but now his heart just thumps noticeably and he wonders why.

"Hey Dave."

David raises a suspicious brow and waits. He'll get to the point eventually or Dave will just ignore him until he gets tired of rambling on like a fool. Or shift will end and David will go home. Which ever…

"Guess you noticed me out there." Sanders gestures out to the hall like an idiot and David graciously chooses to ignore that one slip-up to focus on another.

"I have the finely tuned senses of a large jungle cat, Sanders. But I needed none of those to notice you fumbling around in the hall. Too much coffee or not enough?"

He adds a smirk and Greg nearly chokes on his laughter.

"A jungle cat, huh?"

David is amazed at his ability to keep a straight face even after all the practice he's had.

Greg's smirking now fighting back his own chuckles, then suddenly he looks David right in the eye and growls in a manner not unlike a large jungle feline.

"Ah, too much it is."

Sanders snorts and gives him one of those grins he hates before trying his best to look around the lab nonchalantly. The man seems to have no idea what the word even means. Which is fitting seeing as there's a good chance he can't spell it either.

"So…What's cracking?"

David Hodges pauses right in the middle of placing a new sample under the scope to turn and stare at him again.

What is with this guy? Does he get some sick pleasure out of asking him stupid questions? What does it look like he's doing? Tap dancing?

David looks from the slide in his hand back to Greg… then back to the slide once more before faking a dramatic sigh. Greg seems intrigued by the act and waits to see what's about to come out of the surly trace tech's mouth.

"Alright, alright! You got me."

Greg raises a brow.

"C'mere…"

Greg's mouth drops open a bit, a question on the tip of his tongue. He's cute when he's confused. David will never admit this to another soul of course. Nonetheless the former lab rat takes the bait and inches a bit closer.

Why that is a blush.

David leans in--the two of them nearly nose to nose…eye to eye--and says…

"I was in the middle of warming up."

Greg gives him his long practiced CSI eye. Y'know with the raised Grissom brow and everything. "Warming up?"

His breath smells like peppermint and coffee. David convinces himself he doesn't care and continues on anyway.

David rolls his eyes and groans. "For the dance off."

"The dance off?"

"Yeah, the dance off." Duh.

Greg smiles. And David's heart thuds in his chest at the sight but he manages to finish his ruse seemingly nonplused.

"Willows got all pissed about that dog hair from the Tash case. Said there wasn't a poodle within three miles of the vic. I know poodle hair when I see it." A pain sigh—for dramatic effect of course. "Nonetheless she saw fit to challenge your dear friend David Hodges to a dance off out back by the dumpster at 10 am sharp. Gotta work on my electric slide. I heard her booty shake's a killer."

David gives him a grin and a wink and Greg nearly collapses to the floor in a fit of undignified giggles. Upon which David dons a fairly convincing look of offense.

"What, you don't think I can take her?"

**_oo0oo_**

It's a full two hours later and the end of shift. Greg finds himself standing in the doorway to the locker room, another poor unfortunate case file at the mercy of his fidgeting.

"Y'know Dave I took your advice."

Hodges looks up from whatever it is that he's doing and smirks at him.

"Oh? Signing up for after school spelling tutorials at the nearest elementary?"

Greg snorts and grins at the older man. "Nice."

"I try. Now what the hell are you talking about?"

"Well remember when I brought in my Monopoly set to the lab a few months ago and you said something about it being…"

"A crime against the holy name of Parker Brothers?"

"Y'know I don't recall that particular insult. I thought the one you'd gone with then involved a dog and a chainsaw."

"No. I do believe I said axe--but close enough."

"Well, I've purchased a new set and I was wondering…y'know…since it's after shift…"

"I'm well aware of that."

Greg sighs and the next few words are so rushed David barely gets the gist of them.

"…if you felt like it...maybe you'd wanna come by my place and break it in?"

David stares at him like he's about to be mauled by a rabid, crack addicted pack of emperor penguins.

Greg only briefly wonders if there's really something wrong with him as he comes up with the strangest analogies. Maybe he is insane.

**_oo0oo_**

He's never been to Greg's apartment. It's nicer than he thought it would be. It smells like mangos and pineapple and David finds that it isn't so bad.

Greg makes pancakes from scratch and they have orange juice and coffee.

It's only during the onset of the second hour of a particularly tense battle for land ownership supremacy that David remembers that Greg once told him he hated Monopoly and that the former set was left over my his niece and nephew.

"This is some poor excuse for a first date, Sanders."

Greg grins at him from across the table before giving him a mock pout.

"That's not fair. We haven't even kissed yet."

David snorts and moves his piece six paces. Free Parking. "Kiss my ass is more like it."

Greg gasps. It's just as fake as that pout of his. "I made you homemade pancakey goodness! You have to put out! It's mandatory!"

"Pancakey goodness! And you expect me to put out after _that_!"

A couple hours later, after Greg is bankrupt and reduced to bargaining for property with promises of sexual favors, David heads home.

Greg happily settles for a peck on the cheek. David said the stench of his fantastic failure at property management was too strong to bear.

Greg thinks there's always next time.


End file.
